Following That Pin Hole in the Sky
by CaffeineChic
Summary: Everything was such an effort


She woke up during the night, her throat raw. The diloxin had turned her stomach against her the previous evening, what little she had managed to place in her stomach had not stayed there. Her whole body punishing her for fighting, for daring to ask for more (more time, more life, less pain). She didn't bother with her robe, the quarters were warm - he had taken to turning the heat past his own comfort level and up to hers.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, forcing herself up. Everything took such effort now. She dragged her legs up and over the side of the rack, attempting to propel herself onto her feet and failing on the first try, succeeding weakly on the second. Everything took such an effort. She cursed her own forgetfulness at not having left a glass of water by the bed; her mind had been so fogged last night. She was so tired (of effort, of struggle, of pain).

She made her way unsteadily to the outer room in search of the decanter of water, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Bill. She need not have worried. She found him awake, dressed for bed in his tanks and boxers, but still working at the table. Reports coving its surface, spread out endlessly (endless endless effort).

As he rose to meet her she noticed took in his stance, his movement; his back was bothering him. Everything was such an effort. She tried to blink herself further awake, as his arm slid around her waist, his mouth finding her cheek. "Hey, you were asleep when I came home, you doing ok?"

Her voice was coarse, words grating through her throat as she sunk into his embrace, a hand resting on his upper arm, the other against his chest. "Hmmm, been better."

Her eyes were already closing again. She felt him start to move away, tried and failed to suppress the whimper that escaped from her as her body sought to follow his.

"Easy." His voice in her ear (her body in his arms).

She felt herself being walked to the couch and then seated gently. She wilted into the cushions, her head lolling against the back, her half closed eyes taking in the sheet and pillows that he had laid out for himself. She reached and pulled the sheet to her lap, catching his movements out of the corner of her eye. Rubbing his back, filling a glass of water, walking stiltedly back to her. Everything was such an effort. She took the water from him and drank deeply, thanked him with a smile that he volleyed back softly.

"Taking another one of my beds?"

She smiled wider and tried to stand, reaching out for his hand, shushing his protest against her actions. He helped her to her feet, slipping the glass from her hand and turning to place it on the table. She moved behind him, bracing her hands against his lower back, resting her head between his shoulder blades. She tugged the bottom of his tanks up with less dexterity than she desired. Her thumbs pressed deeply into the muscle, rubbing slow determined circles. She untied knots, loosened frayed ends, untethered the pressure. She felt more than heard the breath escape his body. She felt her own wane even more. Her hands slid round to his front as she leaned further into him, her mouth rising to kiss the first inch of skin she could find that was not hidden by cotton. His hands came to rest over hers, fingers intertwining, securing them together.

"You can't sleep on that couch anymore." Her words were a whisper into his skin.

"_You're_ not sleeping on it."

"Correct."

"You haven't asked Tory to look for guest quarters for you again, have you?" She could hear his attempt to keep the words light, but the weight of his apprehension would not let them rise.

"Was I supposed to do that before?" She giggled into his back, her exhaustion making her giddy.  
"So what are you suggesting Madam President?"

"Frankly Admiral...Bill..." She was so tired. Everything was such an effort. "Just come to bed."

He unlaced his fingers from hers, spun and gathered her close in a single motion. She felt his lips murmuring kisses against her forehead; down the bridge of her nose. She tilted her head and offered him her mouth which he gifted tiny, precious kisses against. Her head started to swim, legs losing strength in a way she wished she could attribute to him, but knowing in her heart that it was the diloxin.

They moved as one toward the rack, he helped her in first. Hands continually reached for each other, allowing no loss of contact as they settled beneath the sheets. She curled her tired aching body around his, breathing in the scent of him, her lips on his neck. She felt like her bones were liquefying as she finally relaxed, gave into the exhaustion. She felt his hand move through her hair, fingertips gently massaging her scalp, his other encircling the wrist of her arm that now lay prone across his chest.

"You promise not to try to seduce me during the night?" His voice a loving rasp in her ears (her body in his arms).

"I'd have to _try_?"

"Gods no."

This was daring. This was new. This was a promise of things to come when bodies weren't broken with fatigue, when minds weren't wrapped in cotton confusion. This was their future they were talking about in teasing tones and serious subtexts.

This was easy.

Perhaps not everything had to be an effort.


End file.
